CHAPTER 29
BRIAR
The hush of the castle settles heavily around me as I pad down the stairs, bare feet silent against stone worn smooth by centuries of steps. I follow the faint sounds of life until the corridor widens into our family’s living room.
I didn’t leave my room with the intention of winding up here. All I knew was that I couldn’t take one more minute of tossing and turning in my bed, unable to sleep after the longest day of my life.
It seems my feet brought me to the only place my heart wants to be right now.
A sprawling black couch dominates the center of the room, the cushions sagging from years of use. A pool table gleams under the low light nearby, the felt marked with chalk and the dents of a hundred games. Darts stick crookedly on a board mounted to the far wall, evidence of my parents’ competitive streaks.
There weren’t many nights that I felt a need to participate and prove my skills in those games, but my mind is filled with the memories of sitting on the couch and watching them all from my little corner. The laughs, the smile, and the good-natured taunting.
It takes my breath away to think about how different the room feels now, almost like we’re in an alternate reality. It tugs at something deep inside me, a reminder of the safety and warmth I haven’t felt since before I stepped through that portal into New York.
I hover at the bottom of the stairs, suddenly feeling so small in the vast space. My fathers are all here, scattered across the room in silence now. Father sits as still as a stone statue carved and deposited onto the couch, Papa leans against the pool table with a cue in hand, resting against the floor. Then there’s Dad, pacing near the dartboard, his knife flashing as he twirls it.
They look up together when they sense me, three pairs of eyes so achingly familiar.
My shoulders droop, as if my body knows before I do, that I don’t need to put on a front anymore. I don’t need to act like I’m okay, or that I have a handle on my emotions for their sake. I’m safe with them.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, knowing I ran away from them earlier, full of shame for leaving Mom behind. All I know is that I can’t be alone right now, even if I can’t find the words still.
Elias was right…what we did didn’t fix anything. When it all came rushing back, it was so much worse knowing that there is no real relief from the grief.
Maybe it makes me childish, but I just need my dads now.
A small, shaky whimper falls from me at that realization and all three of them move at once.
They surround me like three shadows and shields ready to hold the world and all my problems at bay. Papa’s arm slips firmly around my shoulders tugging me into him as Dad’s palm cups the back of my head, and Father’s fingers catch my chin to tilt my face up.
“We are here for you, Briar,” he murmurs in an unusually rough voice, like he’s struggling to get the words out.
It’s then I notice the tears gathering in his eyes, faintly shimmering in the light.
“We are so happy you’re home, honey,” Papa whispers at my side before pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
It feels wrong to accept their love, knowing not all of our family is home because of me and my choices. The weight of them surrounding me and the sheer love in their presence presses down on me, and I can’t hold the flood of emotion back any longer.
My body begins to shake just as the dam breaks within. Hot tears spill down my cheeks as I collapse into them, held tightly between their bodies, the crush of their love grounding me in a way nothing else has. My sobs tear out raw, every one shaking me apart as I cling to them.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out, voice fracturing under the force of my guilt. “It’s all my fault. She’s trapped because of me.”
The words echo off the stone walls as I repeat them over and over, and yet the weight of their arms wrapped around me never falters.
The grief roars through me until the only thing left as the tears subside is my broken, raw voice scraping out, “It’s all my fault.”
“No.” Father’s voice is sharp enough to slice through the storm of guilt clouding my mind, leaving no room for argument. His hand cups my jaw once more, tilting my tear-streaked face up until I have no choice but to meet his eyes.
They are unflinching and narrowed, the absolute picture of certainty as he says, “I need you to truly hear me when I say this is not your fault, Briar.Theytook her and put her in chains. They alone will answer for what they did to you and your mother.”
The finality in his tone stokes a rage inside me that overcomes the sadness as his hand drops from my chin.
I suck in a deep, shaky breath. For the first time since coming home, it’s not paired with a crushing weight of guilt.
He’s right. I may have been the reason she was there to begin with, but I’m not the reason she was hurt and captured. They did that.
My head nods absentmindedly as I process those words, trying to cement them as the truth I cling to moving forward.
